Getting dressed for work is always a production. I drive The Hubs crazy with the number of outfit changes that occur before I finally walk out the door. Honest to goodness, it’s like a Broadway show with clothes flying through the air, shoes landing with a clunk in a corner. *woman shrug* Some women like makeup, I like clothes.
This morning, however, was different…
It’s Homecoming Week at my place of work and the theme is “There’s No Place Like Home… Coming” loosely based off The Wizard of Oz {one of my favorite movies}. We were asked to have the “Courage to Wear Pink” in honor of Breast Cancer Awareness and, of course, the Cowardly Lion. As I stood in my closet, looking for something pink to wear, I kept bypassing the bright fuschia tunic, hoping that I’d find something else in a different shade of pink, but knowing that I wouldn’t.
You see, this isn’t just any tunic, this is my Cancer Sucks Tunic. I was diagnosed with Thyroid Cancer 19 years ago {you can read the story here}. And a few months after that diagnosis, I had “diseased” tissue removed from both breasts. I cannot describe to you the absolute feeling of helplessness when you realize that your own body is turning against you. And that it has decided that maybe you shouldn’t get to live to see your kids grow up or spend retirement in an RV with your husband. But I was blessed to have excellent medical coverage that allowed me to receive treatment from some of the most caring doctors and nurses in the state of Pennsylvania. A special hat tip to The Hubs employer for providing access.
I’m not really even sure how I came across this tunic or what prompted me to try embroidering it, but that’s what I did. With pillows propped behind my back and bandages wrapped around my breasts, I sat with this tunic, a needle, and several spools of white thread and began embroidering tiny leaves and swirly flowers… As I stitched, I cried, I laughed, I celebrated.
I lived.
This tunic is a symbol of what was, what could have been, and what is. So wearing this tunic, doesn’t come easy. But it’s nothing compared to being told that you have cancer.
Today, and every day, I send up prayers of love and strength for those women, men, and children who will receive that diagnosis. I honor those who are fighting that horrible disease. I mourn with those who have lost or will lose a loved one. And I wish kindness and understanding into the hearts and minds of those who have to make life changing decisions regarding access to healthcare…
Don’t just have the “Courage to Wear Pink”, have the courage to save lives.
